Ashes
by Journey Me
Summary: Newest drabble pure crack... Zutara shots that range from angst to fluff, sure to whet any appetite.
1. Where They Snog A Little

Their first kiss tasted like ashes. And the taste she usually associated with not washing out her mouth with mint and myrrh. He didn't taste like chocolate or fruit or anything exotic like the girls in her village tittered about.

Her breath didn't leave her, her heart didn't flutter and the only thing she was aware of was the spittle swirling between their idly moving tongues. It was nothing like her visions of gallant young watertribe boys that would present her with elegantly carved necklaces and the largest finest pellets to her father because they wanted _her_ and no one else would suffice.

It wasn't anything like anything she'd ever dreamed, in fact. It couldn't come close to her many fantasies of princes and ladies and everything girly she was afraid to admit she thought. It was that kiss that finally snuffed out all her childhood hopes and dreams. He wasn't gallant, charming, nice or anything remotely princely.

The hard meshing of lips was bruising and uncomfortable. Her teeth scraped against his again and he bit her lip harshly. Spit and blood dribbled out of the corner of their conjoined mouths.

It lacked finesse she thought as his body tightened around hers in effort to fit together. His fingers were digging into her neck and nails drawing more blood. It wasn't a kiss of lust or experience or anything remotely passionate. It lacked love she thought, then had to pull away sharply to let out a self deprecating laugh.

Even if she was kissing a prince that wasn't, love had nothing to do with it. Neither did lust or even like.

There hadn't been any of that there before at least. Nothing but hatred, anger, jealousy and finally understanding, there had never been _this._ She felt suddenly angry at him and herself. And the whole stupid kiss that didn't even taste good. She ripped her lips away with a heavy breath to begin shouting when he growled at her. "Shut up."

"I.."

"Ah." He whispered with a tight grin. "No talking."

Instead of answering verbally, she wriggled her fists between their tightly pressed chests and pushed. Hard. She kicked and bit and fought him viciously, not wanting to hear or see his too smug for a prisoner bearing and she was just so _angry _with the bastard.

His arms and hands tightened their grip about her waist and neck, a tautness to his limbs that wasn't there before. She wanted to claw his good eye out. Her body was on fire, which she couldn't understand because neither of them could bend and damn it, she wanted answers. The fire spread from her belly to her breasts pressed hard against his torso, to her fingers suddenly gripping his hair, to her legs tangling about his waist as she was shoved against a wall.

His lips found her hungry and wanting for something she didn't understand. The pseudo gentle meshing of lips was gone, a feral meeting of teeth and tongues and everything that could touch was touching and burning and it was all so burning hot. It was nothing like she'd thought. Nothing like she'd dreamed. Her legs tightened at his waist and a ragged moan tumbled from his lips and onto hers straight into her clenching belly.

It left her throat dry and her fingers trembling and slightly afraid. She wasn't supposed to feel hot and weak and uncomfortable and wanting his hips to slip into hers exactly like _that _again where she could feel something she wasn't supposed to like nearly as much as she did. But her hips thrust from the wall again to press against his just to hear the breath catch in his throat to know she wasn't the only one feeling so helpless.

It tasted like ashes and as his lips captured hers again in an achey slide that left her breathless and weak, she thought that it just might have been perfect anyway.

* * *

Err. on my way home from the Fiesta Bowl.. this was born. Wierd. I thought it was too short, so I added some things and now I hate it, but oh well. Part of the Oblivion universe. 

On the mint and myrrh thing, an old form of mouthwash presumably used in 14th century France.

Please leave feedback, I do love it a lot.

Standard disclaimer applies.


	2. If They Said What They Meant

"I hate you."

_I love you_

"Good, I despise you."

_I know_

"I loathe you."

_I need you_

"I abhor you."

_I want you_

"I detest you."

_I don't deserve you_

"I really don't like you."

_I know_

"You disgust me."

_Forgive me_

"You repulse me."

_Of course_

"You are the most annoying, lowly, common, flat-chested sorry excuse for a Waterbender I've ever met!"

_I've never met a kinder more beautiful woman. _

"Well you are the stupidest, most pompous, misogynistic asshole I've ever met."

_I love you too._

"Who also couldn't firebend if the wind blew it for him."

_But I'm really mad._

"That was uncalled for."

_That was uncalled for._

"You called me flat-chested!"

_I really wish you'd quit lying._

"Well you are."

_Well you are— ow! You're not, you're not!_

"You still suck at firebending."

_I'm not sulking. _

"You're still flat-chested."

_And I'm not staring at your lips._

"Well at least I have a moral obligation, what do you have? A ship? No wait, not anymore, huh?"

_I really wish you'd just kiss me. _

"I have my pride and –"

_I will—_

**A Few Minutes Later**

"And where does pride get you?"

_Not fast enough._

* * *

_I was going in a completely different direction when I started this one. I kinda like how it ended up, even if incredibly short. But don't worry, there's another one on the way! I swear. Hopefully, it will be out tomorrow, Thursday or Friday at the latest. I can't say how many more little tidbits will be added, I hadn't intended on more than one, but I'm incredibly bored right now._

_Just in case you missed it, she kissed him. Just wanted to clarify.  
_


	3. In Which A Truce Is Reached

They'd been in the cell together a week when she first initiated a conversation.

"Why did you choose Azula?"

Unsurprisingly, Zuko didn't answer. She hadn't expected him to really, on some deeper lever she'd hoped, so the little hope that had died inside when he'd stood up once again against Aang, would quit hurting so much. It wasn't fair really, that her heart hurt so bad, and he could sit there with a face so calm, only disturbed by the haunted look of a prisoner.

"Nevermind," she croaked and scooted away, she hadn't realized she'd wandered so close in her scrutiny, "It doesn't matter."

Five days later he finally spoke hoarsely to the wall.

"Because she promised absolution."

Not quite sure how to question his blind faith walking into _that_ one, Katara remained silent.

A few days later she'd thought of another question. She wondered why she hadn't thought of it first, but then remembered that Aang was her friend, not his.

"Would you change your decision now?"

Aang was his proclaimed enemy, as she was, and despite the offer to rid him of the obvious mark of shame she received nothing but burnt clothes and a dying avatar.

She rather liked to think that he would say yes, that he saw all his sins laid bare before him and he was sorry for his inaccurate ways.

"No."

Then she remembered she was in a dark cell with a banished prince and no bending.

Katara didn't reply.

* * *

"Why?" She couldn't help the word fleeing from her chapped lips and couldn't find the guilt for bringing up obviously painful memories. When he didn't answer immediately she almost thought he'd forgotten their last not-quite-discussion then she realized who she was talking to and settled huffily against a wall well out of his reach. 

"I'd still believe any lie she told me, because they'd always be what I want to hear."

He didn't look at her and she was grateful. How do you respond to an admission you wouldn't change handing over the last stronghold in a declining war to your bloodthirsty, fascist sister to rule and pillage and otherwise make the entire world miserable?

She really couldn't see just giving in to anyone's demands like that, restored honor or not. Then again, she wasn't a banished prince.

Or a Firebender.

Staying silent her only option that didn't require gaping like a fish, so she remained blissfully unaware of the speculative glances shot her way.

It was two days later when he told her about his mother. She'd already known they shared the same terrible fate of a deceased mother, but as for the woman herself she knew nothing. "She was serene. Quiet. She was weak."

Grimy brows furrowed, "How was she weak?" Calling his revered mother weak would put the woman into the same category as her, the girl he considered very low indeed, and was not what she'd expect from a person as prideful and heritage oriented as him.

"She died."

She wanted desperately to ask how that made someone weak, but she could already see the barriers coming down around his eyes. His only way of keeping her at a distance. Farther than this cell could ever give. He floated in a little sea of denial. She wondered if he was imagining he was back at his little palace, enjoying the perks of being the son of a Fire Lord or if he was just imagining it was anybody else in the cell with him.

She bit her lip tightly to keep the demands for answers to the questions that burned in her chest. After awhile though, she didn't know if it was the questions that burned or his answers.

* * *

That night she heard him whimper from his side of the cell, a pitiful moaning that stilled her turning away from the sound. Normally she'd ignore his nightly terrors for she knew no comfort was wanted but his childlike cries called to her. 

Grasping his shoulder to wake him from his nightly terror, she wasn't prepared to be thrown to the floor as a large body situated itself onto hers. A hand on her throat stopped her surprised exclamation. "What" he snarled through gritted teeth, "did you think you were doing?" There was fire dancing in his eye that she was, for once, thankful was not dancing in his hand.

She swallowed compulsively and allowed her body to go slack. After all, if attacked by a larger predator one didn't fight, you lay docile hoping they'd forget about the prey. Challenging his authority with the tight grip on her throat wasn't the smartest thing she could have done. "You were" she was hesitant to admit he was having nightmares. "Making choking noise, I thought I might be able to help." His expression didn't darken but neither did he move from his dominating position nor remove his hand from its ready place on her throat. As the silence stretched on she became aware of the leg shoved between hers and the arm below her breasts. Then she realized that she was being held down by a boy in a vaguely sexual manner and she couldn't help the coughing that covered up her hysterical giggle. Because this was Zuko, not a boy she could just wiggle to the left a little where his weight pressing against her would be more comfortable. This was Zuko, whose hand on her throat left no doubt that if she did move, the thing she was doing right now, breathing, she might not be doing a few moments later.

A furrow appeared between his brows and he smothered the irrational want to smooth it with her fingers. He continued to stare at her perplexed while she fought not to move. The sudden revelation that it was a boy on top of her, Zuko or not, wasn't helping the tingle she felt being trapped under him. A few long moments later he pushed away from her violently, crushing her throat and bruising her ribs with the sudden forceful movement.

Instead of lashing out like she wanted, Katara scuttled over to her side of the cell and hugged the wall. She wouldn't admit that the look in his eyes before he'd shoved away from her had scared her.

* * *

It was almost a week later when she gathered up the courage to speak to him again. "Do you think they'd kill her?" 

The only response she received was a half-turn in her direction. "Your sister, Azula, I mean. Do you think she'd be assassinated?" His shoulders were tense and he was turning toward the wall again so she continued faster than before. "From what I hear your country is heir apparent, not to mention a little misogynistic. Wouldn't it unsettle the governors if a woman became ruler?" He was curios, but still trying to close himself off. "After all I couldn't imagine Azula would share being supreme ruler of all the world with anyone." She surprised herself with the bitterness ringing in her tone.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Katara frowned at that, sliding closer to him. "So you disagree? You think no one will argue her right to become Fire Lady and have no Fire Lord?" She stopped moving, which she hadn't recalled making half the small trek toward him when he pinned her with a fierce glare.

"She is stronger, no one will refute her claim to the throne."

Her sudden desperation to convince him he was wrong caught her off guard. The words spewed from her mouth with no control and she wasn't sure she cared anymore. "So you think even Azula could keep the thrown if your nation goes into civil war?" He had turned fully to her now, his expression not as certain as it was before. "Did you think the guards whispering was just gossip? That the threats from the governors were just that, threats?" An almost childlike anger crossed his face as her words started to run together like a mantra. "Once she serves her purpose do you think that she will really be kept around? A woman with that much power is not something anyone wants. Especially a woman like Azula. After she killed your father they probably took her seriously, but there's many ways the government can protect themselves against a ruler. Once she's done taking over the world or whatever she's doing, she'll be dead and it'll be written off as a threat to the new nation." That's when the screaming started.

"She won't die by anyone but me! I'll kill her and once I do, I'll be heir again and I'll ruin her life just like she did mine!"

She gaped into his enraged face, the contorted features a mockery of his once calm features. Her voice was a breathy whisper when she spoke and he had to lean even farther forward than his jump from the floor had sent him. "What then Zuko?" Her use of his name seemed to shock him out of his childish jealousy. "You'd only be making it easier for the governors to kill her off. You would be charged with treason. You'd have your crown but with it, your damnation." Her voice could barely be heard over their ragged breathing.

"It'd be worth every second to hold my home in my hands once again." And that was that. Katara realized instead of leading the conversation, she'd been dragged into the life of and shown what it was to be a banished prince. There wasn't much she could say to that so she sighed and moved away from their suddenly too close contact to her side again.

Neither spoke a word for the rest of the night.

* * *

Two days later, Zuko initiated the conversation. "You said your mother was dead," Katara didn't miss the slight hesitation to use the word dead, "what was your father like?" 

Beside her obvious surprise of his starting a conversation, she couldn't guess any reason he'd want to know about her family. She guessed his curiosity might be because his own father was an evil tyrannical beast of a man. Maybe he wanted to know what a real father was like. Or he just figured it was payback for her asking after his own family.

"He was strong. He loved my mother and Sokka and me. He was wise and he commanded his own fleet of Waterbender ships." There weren't anymore tears to shed over the things in the past. "He was everything a father should be." But that doesn't mean she couldn't slip in one last barb to the not-so-prince.

As he turned back to the wall, she was almost tempted to ask about his own father but didn't think she wanted to know anything about the man who gave his own son a scar like that.

* * *

"Would you have really allowed me to remove your scar?" Goodbye sweet silence. Katara apparently couldn't keep her mouth shut for more than an hour anymore. She was used to talking and laughing and friendship, not this grimy silent hostile cell that she was sure hadn't been a holding pen for enemies of the state. She wasn't one for being quiet either. 

"I.." They weren't scrunched against the walls in effort to escape one another anymore, but she still wasn't close enough to hear the hesitant mumble. "I don't know."

"Why not?" At a sharp glare from him she amended her outburst. "I mean, isn't it something you're ashamed of?"

"Should I be?"

"Well, no, I guess not. I just always thought it made you different from everyone else, wouldn't you want to be rid of such a reminder of the past?" She really was confused, and since their previous conversations to do with family always ended dismally, she hoped this wouldn't go as bad. Although it might not be the material so much as the people having the conversation.

"I used to think that it marked me different, that I should be ashamed of it. But if I hadn't stood up to my father, I'd still be under his jurisdiction doing things I thought to be wrong."

"Do you regret it?"

"Everyday." His eyes closed and she felt guilt for bringing up his family once again.

"We really suck at this don't we?" Katara let her head bang against the wall with a sardonic smile. She caught his confused glance and continued. "Being people. Friends. Cellmates. Whatever. We really suck at getting along."

"I haven't killed you yet."

She snorted to hide the giggle at his, what she hoped was a joke. "Then I thank you honorable Prince Zuko. I am humbled to be spared by your hand of mercy." A grunt from the other side of the cell was her only answer, and for now that was okay. "So, um.. friends?"

"How about tentative allies?"

Katara smiled and shook his outstretched hand. "Fair enough."

And it was.

* * *

Lame. Lame. Lame. That ending was just lame. I hope that this wasn't confusing at all, if it was, then feel free to ask me what the hell I was smoking at one point and I'll be happy to explain it to you. I'm not sure why this turned out so long. I want fluff now. Maybe I'll go write some.


	4. Continuing The Family Line

"Babies. You want babies?" He refused to admit that his voice cracked at the end of the word babies. He was a Fire Lord and ran an impressive empire and he was not afraid of his wife. Or children. He was not afraid of the gleam of triumph that had entered her eyes and was definitely not aroused at the way she stalked toward him.

"Not just me Zuko." All of unholy hell, she was purring at him. He tried to not imagine what that tongue could do but felt he was doing very poorly as his pants felt a little tight. "Your Uncle wants babies, your advisors want babies, even Sokka wants babies. I guess you could say the world is conspiring against you." He stared resolutely into her eyes because if he could not see the hand slithering into pants then he could not feel it.

"The economy is not stable enough for us to have children." He didn't squeak because there wasn't a hand in his pants and there wasn't a beautiful woman breathing hotly on his neck and they were most definitely not about to conceive the future heir to his kingdom in a pantry.

"People are worried Zuko." He was doing a poor job of focusing on her words, he knew but he couldn't help the breathless moan that escaped his lips. "It's been two years after all."

"Who's worried?" Zuko couldn't give a flying fuck who was worried or what was he saying? He was distracted by trying to figure out how his pants were on the floor instead of around his waist where they belonged. Sneaky pants. "I'll show them they have nothing to worry about."

Amazing how much of a cold shower his wife laughing at him could be. "Oh Zuko, they don't question your _position_," she demonstrated by rolling her hips, "just your _prosperity._" She laughed again while eyeing him up and down.

His hands curled into tight fists and he glared at his positively glowing wife, "Who would dare—"

She cut off his protests with still laughing lips. "Why don't we _deliberate_ on how to show them how _fruitful_ you can be?" So saying she pushed her unresisting husband into a shelf and got started on the next heir.

Zuko was determined to never be cornered by Katara in the kitchens again though. His head chef couldn't take another shock like the sight of the royal couple procreating all over his spice rack.

* * *

_After that last shot, I decided I needed fluff, then I wanted smut, so I made some smuff. I was going to fill it with innuendos, but I really wasn't up to it. It was really hard to refrain from using 'family jewels' somewhere in there though. _  



	5. Ladylike

It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen, which is why she couldn't wear it. She wasn't a lady, she was a warrior. She had seen war, had fought and killed, injured and been injured and seen more warfare than someone barely 16 should see.

Katara wasn't a lady.

She saw the looks the Fire Nation ladies would give her, like vultures waiting for the feeble prey to give up the fight. They fluttered their lashes and waved their silken fans and blushed prettily and their hands were delicate instruments used to play the Biwa. When Katara blushed, her cheeks didn't acquire a faint pink tinge the complimented her skin, her face reddened and was quite unattractive, when she tried to play the Biwa, she pulled too hard and broke a string. And when she tried on her wedding dress, the calluses on her fingers had caught and ripped a section of the delicate fabric.

Katara wasn't gentle.

She didn't understand the concept of pouring tea and kneeling next to her fiancé looking like a doll while the men chatted above her head. She didn't like it and found herself spilling sake, shifting to return feeling to her legs and talking when not spoken to. She makes a horrible Fire Nation lady and she knows this, but it doesn't make the pill any less bitter when she sees the wistful look in her fiancé's eyes. She tries to wear the constraining dresses but worries that she couldn't fight and wears a less formal loose dress that privileged women don't wear. Her fiancé likes to remind her that the war is over, but she is a warrior first.

Katara wasn't patient.

When the ladies would titter about court gossip, she tries to talk about conditions of trade routes and treaties. They would giggle outrageously and she would feel inept all over again. She wasn't meant to sit around and look pretty. She wasn't meant to be locked up in a gilded cage with many predators lurking outside. She wasn't meant to watch as her husband took a second wife so the heirs to the kingdom would be assuredly fire benders. She wasn't meant for a life where no one cared what she accomplished; only cared that she stays out of the way.

Katara wasn't a lady. She thought he understood this when he asked her to be his Fire Lady. And though she was in it for love, she couldn't be used as a treaty.

Katara was a warrior and knew when to pick battles, so she tried not to feel guilty as she ran away.

* * *

_Hmm.. My bad. After a week off from school due to weather, I had work piled next to my bed hoping I could read my 3 books through osmosis. So far it hasn't worked. Yeah, Biwa, a guitar type instrument with 4 strings, not to be confused with the Shamisen which has 3 strings. _

_Please tell me how you liked this, I wasn't so sure I wanted to post it. _


	6. Ghosts

"Mummy, do ghosts exist?" A few chuckles escaped the older women seated around Katara for afternoon tea. Katara herself smiled at her youngest son and answered an emphatic no and asked where he had heard such things. "I was going to sleep with you and daddy last night 'cause the storm was scary but I heard loud noises coming from your hallway and I asked Mayura and Mayura said that when she asked you, Daddy said it was a ghost that haunted the royal wing for centuries and that I shouldn't try to enter your bedroom until it stopped making noises or the ghost might get me."

Katara was sure the blush crawling up her throat was visible by now. There was no mistaking exactly what kind of ghost Zuko told his children was haunting the royal wing and by the barely concealed snorts coming from behind her she was sure it wouldn't be confined to this room either. Her son was still babbling on about the ghost and it took considerable will power to listen to him.

"…but if the ghost did exist why hasn't anyone else heard of it? I asked the guards near your room and they just laughed at me and then I asked the cook and his face got all red and splotchy and his eye started twitching like it did when…"

Apparently she didn't have to worry about the gossipmongers behind her to spread their delicate lips; her son had done a fine job of it himself. She had to remind herself that this was her child several times before the anger cooled.

"I went back in the morning to ask if the ghost was real but it was still making those noises! I thought it must be a real ghost because it had been at it all night. Ghosts must not get tired."

She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not –

"When I tried to ask father in the War Room he started stuttering like the time you told him about Sayuki and told me to ask you but what I don't understand why everyone I asks about the ghost laughs."

She was crying because the reign of her husband would all come crashing down on them because of a seven year old boy not an incensed group of rebels with a cunning leader.

"Mummy, why are you crying? Did the ghost hurt you? Why does father do nothing about the ghost, can't the priest exercise it like Mayura said?"

The ladies behind her apparently lost the struggle with their mirth and a loud burst of laughter followed his questions. A few were even crying, tears of amusement streaking gaily down their reddened cheeks. Katara put her hands to her face and felt the flaming blush, and dry sobbed once.

"Mummy, was it something I said?"

* * *

_Well life basically beat the shit out of me the past few months, its not been pleasant. Along with school and work my health has been suffering and am most likely going to the doctor Monday to see if it is low blood sugar or anemia. Which both suck since I already have an abnormally low blood pressure._

_ Anyways, I wrote this in five minutes, but since it's the first drabble I finished in nearly 3 months I went ahead and posted it. I hope everyone enjoys it. Can be seen as a continuation of ch 4. Sorry again about the long wait. _


End file.
